


Risla|Pyktis

by LightningPride4Life



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, Harm to Children, Kidnapping of children, Slavery, turning children into weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 23:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12715224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningPride4Life/pseuds/LightningPride4Life
Summary: Risla's life from when she is young and a slave to after she escapes and changes her name to Pyktis.





	Risla|Pyktis

“Come on Risla. We need your help.” Daydream says, just like she used to when she was there, so Risla hefts the gun that is way too big for her and hurts her shoulder with each shot, and takes aim. She pretends she’s shooting intruders, and her mothers need her. Their weapons of choice are close range and Tempest always had to help them. She fires the gun, but it does the rocking thing and the bullet misses the tiny circle and hits the middle one instead. It wasn’t that far off so she won’t even get yelled at just sighed disappointedly at. She lines up again and this time it’s Night who needs her help. Her knife is stuck in his gut and he has a hold of her hair. She can’t mess up because then Night would have a bullet in her brain and that’s bad. This time the kick back sends her to her butt, and the bullet doesn’t even hit the target. She hears an angry roar and he pulls her back up by her hair, which is so short his fingers dig into her scalp.  
“You little whelp. Don’t you see the target? You’re supposed to hit it. You know what? Never mind. We’ll start again tomorrow. Off to bed with you. No dinner till you can hit dead points 5 times in a row both head and chest. Can’t have a weapon that can’t shoot.” He throws her down and sends her away as he packs up the guns, putting them back in their safe. She doesn’t run to her room even though she wants to. She has to walk like she was told to, making no sound and no mark on the dusty floor, or he’ll be mad, and she already has no dinner she wants breakfast, even if everyone back home told her to never eat human, it steals your sense of self.  
She collapses into her bed, a pile of rags and worn blankets in the closet called her room, and curls into a ball. She thinks back to when she was little and had nightmares about something she can’t remember. Night was usually on patrol, but Daydream would let her into their bed. She would hold her tight and sing a lullaby with Risla. She isn’t here now, in this heck hole, but Risla can pretend. She remembers the words. “Hush young one. Nothing’s there. Except a wild hare. It’s okay. For I’ll be here come day. Nothing could keep me away.”  
Risla looks straight in front of her in the pitch black. There are other people in here. She can smell them, but she couldn’t care less about the people crushing her, the uncomfortable position she’s in, or even the muzzle and straight jacket. All she cares about now is doing listening over the complaints and noises the other passengers are making.  
“Any more going to the army, or are the rest independent hires?”  
“No more that will fit in this truck. Don’t know what boss man was thinking pilling em in like this. I don’t know what Boss Man’s gonna do with the rest. I heard he pissed of someone powerful. Betcha a bottle o’ gin one of the kids was a rival’s.”  
“How we gonna figure that out Max? Ask his rivals? Then they would know where thems kid is.”  
“No Timmy, you idiot. We look at missing persons posters. Come on we’re done here anyway.”  
The footsteps disappear and Risla thinks about the army and the war. Then she curls up as much as she can and does her best to forget. She doesn’t need to know anything except her orders. In her hurry to bury the war she loosens other memories.   
Tempest’s birth name was Max. She pauses then lets herself fall into the memory like when she was a kid and still hoped her sisters would find her.  
She looks up at him. He wears his large jacket that Old Lady Lia made, the one with the sunset over the waves. He’s holding his two bags of groceries, the heavy ones because he’s got more stamina then her he can make it back up the mountain, and her hand in a death grip, and he’s staring at the old lady with the strangest face like he wants to hug her and stab her at the same time, or maybe he wants to run back home, but he can’t because it would break the eggs, and Risla can’t keep up with him.  
“Max?” She calls again walking up, and Tempest jerks like he did the first time, but he wasn’t walking and neither was Risla, so she doesn’t run into him again. “I missed you so much. You have absolutely no idea.” She comes up and goes to hug him, but Risla gets in the way. She doesn’t like the old lady’s voice. It is full of fake sweetness like cough syrup.  
“What do you want old lady?” Tempest looks down at her in surprise then smiles softly for a split second, and Risla feels like a goddess.  
“I’m not old. I’m only 40.” She says. She looks at Risla like she’s a rabid squirrel. “Max, Darling. Whose child is this?” She looks like she’s hoping for a specific answer. “What are they paying you to babysit? I’m certain it can’t be that much, although it does seem like her parents are rich. She certainly acts it.” Risla defiantly doesn’t like her and she’s picking on Tempest. He won’t protect himself, but she insulted someone he likes.  
“She’s mine. Please leave us alone Margret.” He says letting go of Risla’s hand and picking her up.  
He had carried her back up the mountain and helped her and Daydream with dinner and the dishes. She notices her cheeks are damp. It has been so long since she thought of her Home of her Family. She curls up even tighter, so it’s hard for her to breath deep enough to cry, and forces herself to fall asleep.  
She only opens her eyes when the muzzle is removed. There is a sword next to her. The people who unchained her ran the second they did, so she’s in hostile territory. She grabs the sword and Hunts.  
She stalks the base. One team of guards approaches and she guts them then leaves before they die. If she eats during a job she’ll be punished, and it always hurts. She dances with the blade, a fling, they’ll never see each other again. She kills, after the first group was found they were hunting her. Either she would kill or she would die. It’s what the people that bought her wanted. She met the guard dog, he was like her, chained and tamed, but she was better and she won. She waited with him though. She looked him in the eyes as he died. It was all a tamed could ever hope for. She stalked the empty hallway for two days and nights, and only when her handler arrived, and told her to, did she eat.  
Risla is taller than her handler now. She’s an adult, still young though, only a century old. He’s 59 and his hair is gray and thinning. His son left years ago. He never agreed with his father’s business. Risla is stronger than she was 30 years ago. She was only a teen, and he was in the prime of his life. She has no need to fear him. She is working on his farm when he comes. The plow is dropped as he whips her savagely. She knows; she shouldn’t have fed the new pup from her plate. He is still being tamed, so he must eat only human flesh. There must be no way for him to live without it. She is beaten down and bloody. The new marks cross old ones. There is no way it won’t scar. Her eyes hit the tree at the edge of the field. Some of its branches have woven together; it reminded her of her home when she first saw it. Now it reminds her of her mothers. Remembering them usually makes her sad, but now it just makes her mad. She is her mothers’ daughter. The child of warriors, and then made a weapon. He has no right striking fear in her. She grabs his whip.  
It wraps around her hand, and she tugs it out of his. He’s sputtering in rage and yelling, but she doesn’t listen. She slips her foot under the plow and kicks it up into her hand. He marches up to her ranting about how he’s the master and she is the weapon hidden in plain sight. He goes to slap her for her disobedient, but he freezes. A look of astonishment crosses his face as he looks at the plow going through his gut. All the other wildens have frozen. They stare as he collapses. Blood spills on the ground. She rests her foot on his side and pulls the plow out of him. She looks over the field. All the other tamed are staring at her. She pulls her head back and howls, her family’s song.  
They go through his closet and the pantry. Risla is given the fluffiest coat before she can refuse. She leaves with two bundles of rations. She goes to the cage that has the new pup. He is naked and shivering in the freezing air. She breaks the bars and drops the coat on him. He has a pack and he knows the way back to his home as well as she knows the way back to hers.  
“We live straight between the third star that makes the back of Science’s coat and Karmas the one that marks the end boot.” Night says pointing the stars out to her daughter. “Never forget Risla. Promise me, that you’ll always come home safe.” They had spent the day helping a child find her way home, and Night was worried for her child.  
Risla looks up at the sky. Her blood boiling in anger at what these humans had done. She turns. Risla walks with her back to what she has called home for her entire life. Anger is nothing but a weapon, and she doesn’t want to hurt her family anymore then she already has.  
Risla finds a small city. It has skyscrapers, chain restaurants, and there’s not a farm, field or forest in sight. The people there want nothing to do with each other on good days, and it is filled with criminals and monsters in human form. There is nothing here that reminds her of her old home, but that’s what she wants. She doesn’t want to remember. She finds a park and a large tree to sleep in.  
She wakes up suddenly when she hears a scream. Her hand is immediately on the handle of the sword she took. She looks to where she hears scared whimpering. Two humans are fighting. Risla drops down. The female is telling the male to stop, but the male will have none of it. Risla fixes the problem. His corpse falls and she pulls the female up. The poor thing feinted. Risla carries her to a park bench and lays her down. She hears more fear from an ally and moves.  
It is her first night in her new home, and she learns that humans ignore the suffering of others. She is determined to fix this city. Her old pack stood above a small farming town that never experienced anything worse than a robber or a lost child, but this is her city. She will be the protector like her mothers were and still are. She is no longer a hopeful child, a war bound teen, or an enslaved adult with nightmares plaguing her waking hours. She is no longer Risla of The Hidden Mountain. She is Pyktis, anger in her late handle’s native tongue, and she is free again.


End file.
